Walk by You Again
by Separate Entity
Summary: My take on the stages of Mason and Nev's relationship. Spoilers for Wolfsbane.


Walk by You Again

**A/N: Prepare for a ridiculously long author's note!**

**So, who has read my story ****_Bane of Dreams_****? Anyone? Remember how I said I'd be putting up a few more Nightshade stories within the next few weeks? Well, it's about sixty or so weeks overdue, but here's my take on how Mason and Nev started dating. **  
**The flashbacks take place starting a year before the events of ****_Nightshade_****, but the actual story happens right at the end of ****_Wolfsbane_****, when Bryn comes to relieve Mason of guard duty.**

**From page 135 of ****_Nightshade_****:**_  
__**"Mason is gay. … He and Nev have been dating for the past year," Ansel said, flipping onto his stomach. **__  
__**[…]**__  
__**"You mean Neville? Ren's Neville?"**__  
__**"No, not Ren's Neville. Mason's Neville. … They met at a support group for Guardians who are 'out'"**__  
__**A wry laugh burst from my throat. "So you're telling me that Mason and Neville—er, Nev—are both in Gay Guardians Anonymous?"**_

**Anything you recognize belongs to Andrea Cremer.**

**The title comes from that incredibly cheesy pickup line, "Do you believe in live at first sight, or do I need to walk by you again?"**

**Rated T for injuries, coarse language, and kissing.**

* * *

**Mason's Point of View**

Ansel shifts on his cot. I know how bad it feels to be pitied, but my heart aches for the younger boy. Nobody deserves this. Nobody. The cot unbalances a bit, and two of the legs go tap-tap-tap on the floor.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

Tap-tap-tap on the door. It's my mother on the other side; my dad's knocks sound different. "Come on in, Mom," I say.

The door opens and my mother comes in with that unobtrusive stride of hers. Just about everything about my mom is unobtrusive. She never pushes anything or anyone, but she doesn't need to. She's just a natural confidant. "Mase?" she asks, and something feels off. Mom stopped calling me Mase years ago.

"What?" I respond, trying to sound nonchalant.

"I have something for you," she says, pulling a folded up pamphlet from her pocket. I take it.

It takes awhile for me to realize what the flyer is advertising. When I do figure it out, I drop the paper with a shock. "Wh-why do you think I need this?"

Mom's eyes are solemn brown. "I found the pictures under your mattress when I was changing the sheets," she says. "Mase, honey, you know I love you, right? No matter what."

My empty hands are shaking. _Stupid to leave them there, _I reprimand myself._ Stupid. _And then,_ She doesn't mind. She _knows_ and she still says she loves me_. "Mase," my mom says again, "do you think—do you want to go?"

My throat feels too tight. I swallow and nod. My mom nods back, squeezes my hand, and leaves the room.

I pick the pamphlet off the floor and rub out the creases.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

There's a disturbance at the door, and Bryn comes in. None of us are really in good shape, but it's very obvious on Bryn. Her eyes are shadowed and her whole body seems to curve inward. Maybe I just notice it because it's Bryn. She's always been like a little sister to me and she's never looked this hopeless. "Hey," she rasps.

"Hay is for horses," I say, hoping a joke will make her smile. "I prefer my meals medium rare." I flash my fangs.

Bryn gives me a shove and I let myself topple. She catches me with an annoyed huff, but I can see a bit of a glint in her eyes as I straighten back up. "I'm here for the next shift of guard duty," she says, the glint disappearing.

"Oh," I say. Reality check. Sometimes I really hate reality. "Do you want me to sit with you for a little bit?" Nev was probably waiting for me, but sisters come before misters.

"That would be nice."

There is only one chair in the room, so we sit down on the floor with our backs to the wall and watch Ansel sleep. Bryn is stiff at my side and I can feel the tension thrumming in her blood. This is all wrong, but I can't think of what to do to fix it, or what words might bring her ease. I just sling an arm around her shoulder, tucking her into my side. I might not speak the language of girls' broken hearts, but to wolves, touch is comfort.

Eventually she relaxes against me, and we sit in silence.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

I'm intensely distracted the entire first period, last night's events swirling through my mind, just as they had since I'd arrived home. The meeting had been a small thing, and I hadn't really made too much of an effort to get to know the others. There had been one person there who had made an effort to get to know me, though. One person who I am going to have to avoid now at all costs. He almost got me to let my guard down, and that's dangerous.

At lunch I sit with Calla, Ansel and the others, but I can't rid myself of the feeling that something is watching me. Eventually I look up and catch Neville staring at me from the Banes' table. He meets my eyes for a moment, then returns his attention to the lasagna on his tray.

The final bell rings and I'm walking out towards the parking lot when I see him again. He's standing in an alcove of sorts in the wall made by a recessed door. It's out of the way; a good place to hide or have a private conversation.

Just like in the cafeteria, his eyes come up and meet mine. This time he winks.

I make an executive decision. This Bane wolf has taken some sort of an interest in me and I'm going to find out why. I stalk towards the door.

When I get there, I drop my backpack, blocking us in. I speak first, not bothering with formalities. "Why did you say those things to me last night, Neville?"

"It just seemed like a shame for such a cute guy to have such little self-confidence." His voice is irritatingly calm.

"I can take care of myself. You know that as well as—wait, did you just call me _cute_?"

Neville smirks. "I just call 'em as I see 'em," he says. He looks me up and down and his smirk grows into a grin. "Cutie."

"You-you really meant it?" I ask, shocked stupid, then scramble for more words. "I'm sorry, I just thought that—"

"That us Banes are condescending barbarians who thrive off of the suffering of others and you should avoid us as much as possible until Ren and Calla's union?" His voice is scathing.

I start to protest, then just sigh. "I'm sorry," I repeat.

"You sure apologize a lot," he says.

I shrug. "It's easier to apologize than to argue. And I don't care what most people think, so why bother? They're not worth wasting my rapier wit on."

"Do you care what _I_ think?" Neville asks.

"And we're back to square one," I say. "Why does my opinion matter to you?"

"Us gay wolves gotta stick together," Neville says at length.

"But why now?" I ask. He doesn't answer. The grin is gone from his face now. "Neville?"

"'Neville' is such a mouthful. My friends call me Nev."

"Am I your friend?" I ask.

"That depends," he says, and I think I hear a bit of nervousness in his teasing tone. "Do you do this with your friends?"

_Do what?_ I wonder, but before I can voice my thoughts, Neville—Nev—does the most shocking thing yet. He steps forward, puts a hand on my cheek, and kisses me.

I've kissed people before. There had been two girls in middle school and when I had finally figured it out, I kissed first gay guy I met freshman year. This is different. It starts out clumsy and awkward just like those other three.

And then it hits me that _Nev is kissing me_. Nev, who is a Guardian like me, not some ordinary human I'd have to lie to. Nev, who is turning out to be strong and fierce and surprisingly protective. Nev, whose lips are soft and whose hands are callused as they cradle my face. I gasp into his mouth and bring my own hands up to tangle in his hair and pull him closer to me. He's a good kisser.

We break apart for air and I pant against his skin, drawing in the scent of black pepper and honey. An incongruous mixture, sweet and spicy, but it fits. Our lips meet again and my musing is lost. He's taller than me and lanky, but I can feel smooth planes of muscle through his sweater. I can hear the rapid thumping of his heartbeat. I can taste a hint of tomato in his mouth, as well as something richer that I can't name. I could have spent the rest of my life frozen in that kiss.

Eventually we pull away and just stand there, foreheads touching, bodies pressed together, my hands still in his hair and his cupping my cheeks. His pupils are dilated and I can smell a touch of arousal underneath all the other scents in the air. His heart is pounding, and so is mine. As I watch, his lips, flushed and kiss-swollen, curve into a smile. "Do you?" he asks, and he is so close I can feel the breath of his words on my face.

I want to kiss him again, but he's waiting for a response to a question I can't remember. "Do I what?" I ask, trying to keep my eyes on his eyes instead of his mouth.

"Do you do this,"—his lips brush against mine softly and I swear my knees tremble—"with your friends?"

"That depends," I respond, and I realize I'm echoing our previous questions. "Are you my friend?"

The smile reaches his eyes as his lips brush mine again and he says, "I'd rather be your boyfriend, to be honest."

I don't know what it is about those lips that turns my brain to goo. I scramble for a witty response. "I think that can be arranged," I say. "One condition, though."

"And what would that be?" Nev asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"A kiss," I say, trying to keep the giddiness out of my voice.

Nev is full-on smirking as he says, "'I think that can be arranged.'"

Neither of us say anything else for a while. Just when I feel like I'm going to float away, the kiss stops. "Condition fulfilled?" Nev asks.

"You could use a little more practice," I say, still floating. On impulse I slide my hands down to wrap around his upper back and hug him tightly.

Nev laughs softly and rests his chin on my head. "I can live with that," he says.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

Beside me, Bryn's words echo my memory. "How is he going to live with this?" I can hear another question in her voice: _How am _I_ going to live with this?_

It was so incredibly unfair. If the union had gone through it was very possible that Bryn and Ansel would have gotten together. Now that were free of the Keepers it should have been even more likely. But Ansel won't even look Bryn in the eye anymore. "I don't know," I say honestly, and hug her tighter.

I can hear the tears in her voice. "I just hate this," she says.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

"I just love this," he says. We're standing in my kitchen. I'd gotten up to get crackers for our study break when Nev came up behind me and pulled me back against him, twining our arms together on my chest.

"What about it?" I ask, more than a little flirtatiously.

I can feel him smile against my neck. "I love being here in your arms, and I love holding you. I love being able to smell your scent and feel your heartbeat. I love the taste of you—" he runs his tongue over the shell of my ear quick as a flash before continuing, "and the sound of your breathing. And I love knowing that I could kiss you right now, just because I want to."

"You're such a fucking poet," I tease.

"I do believe you're the one who's fucking the poet," Nev says, turning me around so I can see his smirk.

I lean in and nip at his neck. "Not yet I'm not," I say. "Homework first. I've been putting off this assignment for too long."

"When will your parents be home?" Nev asks.

"They're patrolling till late. We still have a few hours."

Nev tilts his head in and kisses my lips once, then twice. "Fine," he says, and kisses me again.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

Bryn shifts in my arms and takes a deep breath. "Nev knows I came to switch," she says. "He's going to be looking for you."

"I can stay if you want me to," I tell her, but she shakes her head.

"Go."

I do. I leave the cell, and walk back towards the Haldis wing, and try not to feel like I'm running away.

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

I must have said something to Calla to get her to let me go, and it probably wasn't nice. Even as I stalked—fled—down the hall, I could smell her hurt and confusion.

The doors to the school fall closed behind me. I reach the edge of the woods around the school and all but collapse onto four legs. Then I run. For once, running doesn't help. The demons I am running from now are in my head.

_the smell of Logan's clove cigarettes—being so overwhelmed and disgusted I couldn't stop my snarl—the squeeze of a hand on my thigh—so wrong _so wrong_ sowrongsowrongsowrong—_

Someone is following me. I dive through a thicket, turn around quickly, and leap back out, pinning the copper-and-steel wolf to the frozen ground. _Mason?_ Nev's voice echoes in my head.

Nev's voice echoes in my head, and the _so wrong _changes to_ so right._ The next thing I know I'm in human form again, curled up and sobbing, pressing my face into Nev's chest fur. I can feel his heartbeat, a steady and familiar tempo of _home, home, home_. I can feel hot wolfy breath blowing over the back of my neck that melts into peppered kisses as his human arms wrap around me.

"I'm so sorry, Mase," Nev murmurs in between kisses. "I wish I—"

"Shh," I shush him. "I'm going to be okay. I threatened to tell his father if he did anything else; it's going to be okay."

"You're crying. You smell like fear." Nev sounds unconvinced. "And what do you mean, anything else?"

"So do you," I say, ignoring his second point.

"I was scared for you," Nev says, and I can hear it in his voice. "I've never been able to stop anything happening to Sabine or Cosette and I can't stand the thought of not being able to protect you, either."

"I love you," I say and the words melt the last bit of ice from my chest. "I love you and you love me. That's all I need for now."

.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.~*~.

Nev opens the door before I knock. He's dressed in a loose T-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants. I wince at the bruises visible on his arms and wrists. He steps forward and takes my face in his hands. He pulls me into the room and kicks the door closed, then leans in to kiss me.

There isn't much wrong in the world that Nev's kisses can't make disappear, at least for a little while. I lose myself in his lips and his scent. He guides me to the bed, and I lose myself in the feeling of his skin on mine.

Afterwards, we lie curled together beneath the covers, Nev's head on my chest and our fingers woven together and resting on my stomach. "I'm so lucky to have you," I say.

"You're thinking about Bryn and Ansel," Nev says, and shifts so he can look into my eyes.

Nev knows me better than I know myself sometimes. "It's just so fucking unfair," I growl, tears pricking my eyes. "We've all been through too much. They were so damn close and now he can't even stand her being in the same room as him. They're both hurting and miserable and I have you and I feel so grateful and so horrible at the same time, and I…"

"Survivor's guilt," Nev says, ever the intellectual. I sniffle and nod and Nev leans up to kiss my tears away. "I wish I could tell you that everything is going to be alright," he says, "but I can't. All I can do is promise that I'll never stop loving you, no matter what happens."

"That's all I really need," I say, the truth raw in my throat. "I love you, too."

* * *

**A not-so-brief PSA: Those of you who follow me might have noticed that I uploaded a different version of this story back in May and then took it down.  
**

**I don't own a physical copy of _Nightshade_. But after reading the trilogy I fell in love with Mason and Nev. There's barely any fic out there for them, and I wanted to change that, just a little. So I started writing my take on their first meeting. By the time I finished it, I hadn't read _Nightshade_ in almost a year, and there were some rather obvious deviations between my story and canon. Within two days, I got my first review. I was thrilled, until I read it. An anonymous reviewer had reviewed saying, WRONG WRONG WRONG YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG, etc. and proceeded to rant for about an entire paragraph, all in caps, using maybe three words other than that phrase.**

**They were right. I had gotten it wrong. I took down the story. I modified it. I even like this version a lot better than the original.**

**I had gotten it wrong. But this is the difference between flaming/trolling and constructive criticism. Constructive criticism is _constructive_. It's one thing to tell an author that a supposedly canon-compliant fic really isn't. It's quite another to berate them without any attempt to help them improve.**

**Was I personally hurt by this? Yes, for a day or two. Ultimately, it was a learning experience. The internet makes it easy for people to be jerks, but just because you can doesn't mean you should. So please, be nice when you review. The world could do with a little less hate.  
**

**PSA over.**

**Happy Reading,  
Separate Entity**


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